Nothing makes you more aware of your own mortality than standing over the body of a woman who was born on your birthday. It happens from time to time and never fails to get my attention. As if this woman and I shared birthday cake and blew out candles together, I felt a connection with her.  The ceiling fan whacked a rhythm as I stood over my Birthday Soul Sister and once more, pondered Life and Death.  The rhythm was broken by the insistent ringing of her cell phone.  The word was out -- she was dead.  It's an interesting phenomenon. Upon hearing word of an untimely death, friends and family will repeatedly call the deceased.  It is never pleasant to confirm their fears and often, like the emotional coward I am, I let it ring.  But today we needed to contact the next of kin. The phone rang again. The medical examiner and I locked eyes. The phone continued to ring. And with much regret, it was answered.

"Hello?"